


you could have just said that

by bangin_patchouli



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, EXO - Freeform, Fluff, I really don't know how to tag, M/M, Winter, it's snowing, kaiyeol - Freeform, kaiyeol fluff, this is why no one reads my things LOL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bangin_patchouli/pseuds/bangin_patchouli
Summary: Chanyeol thinks it looks curiously like Jongin’s smile.





	you could have just said that

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this for somebody that i don't speak to, hence the changing of this note. that doesn't mean i have to delete something i created, just because of the chance it could have been ruined.

* * *

-

      Jongin really does think that the apartment, as small and cramped as it is, seems much bigger when he alone is the only person there. Finals are over, and the snow makes itself known outside, roaring down in white sheets that cover the roads and buildings, and the cold seeps in through the poorly placed window. The air crawls over Jongin’s bared skin, raising goosebumps, as he idly, almost gloomily, one might say, sits, burrowed in the corner of the rough looking brown couch - it had been the only one Chanyeol could find, and Jongin had preferred it over the other option of an empty living room.

      The more Jongin sits, arms now crossed halfheartedly over his chest, the more he thinks, oddly enough, about how he wishes Chanyeol were home just then. The thoughts swim through his mind as his eyes swim around the room, his light head taking in all the red brick walls, the paintings Chanyeol had put up for him, the mess that so characteristically fit the both of them just right, and he finds himself willing the door to open any moment and free him from his loneliness. The feeling catches him off guard. Since when did he not want to be alone?

      Surroundings fade when Jongin is in his own mind, traveling through his hazy memories and defining the wish for the door to open. He is a sophomore in college, and almost every good memory he holds has one thing in common. He wonders when a week and a half in near solitude became too much for him to handle. He blinks twice, fingers focusing into the fabric of the couch as he hears the tin sound of muffled keys outside the apartment door.

      Jongin turns his head, but doesn't feel himself stand up when the door, haphazardly painted yellow, opens halfway, then gets stuck on the pesky threshold that had been broken when Chanyeol had reasoned with Jongin for the apartment. Jongin rushes, socked feet thumping hushed on the hardwood floor, to grasp at the copper handle and wrench the door open. Then he stands, arms dangling at his sides as he blinks.  
  
     “Stupid door got stuck again, huh,” Chanyeol says, both hands occupied with the plastic silver hands of the suitcases that Jongin vaguely remembers making fun of in the hallway outside their apartment before Chanyeol left for his parents’ house a week and a half ago. That doesn't stop Jongin, though it should have, from waking his bones from their rut and casting himself into Chanyeol right where he stands.  
  
      Jongin hears Chanyeol’s grunt and the suitcase handles when they fall into the wall as he feels, more distinctly, Chanyeol’s freed hands catch around his waist, warm even through the sweater that happened to be Chanyeol’s. In the back of his mind, Jongin hopes Chanyeol won’t notice that Jongin is wearing it. Jongin closes his eyes into the feeling of Chanyeol’s vast shoulders under his arms and Chanyeol’s neck against his cheek. Jongin could melt into a puddle of relief right then and there when he feels Chanyeol’s staccato laugh rumble through his own chest, hears it spring from Chanyeol’s lips right next to his ear.

      “If I didn't know any better,” Chanyeol murmurs, and it’s almost a whisper. Jongin curls his fingers into Chanyeol’s coat. “I’d say you missed me.”

      Jongin says nothing, only blinks his blurring eyes as Chanyeol’s hand travels in a devastatingly soothing line down his back. He almost forgets that he’s standing on his toes.

———-

      It’s late, later than it feels. The sun has long set behind the thick cover of snow clouds, the city is no longer bustling below their window, the takeout they’d ordered lies empty on the coffee table, but Jongin is, alarmingly, yet to go to sleep.

      He sits closely next to Chanyeol on the couch, knees up, head tilted almost enough to be resting on Chanyeol’s shoulder, but not quite. Chanyeol can’t help but notice Jongin’s unfocused eyes, staring in the direction of the TV rolling in front of them, can’t help but wonder why he can’t seem to pay attention; it is his favorite, after all. Chanyeol doesn't understand why Jongin likes those oddly plotted animes that always end the same. He doesn't mind them, though.

      “Jongin,” Chanyeol says before he can stop himself from opening his mouth. Jongin looks up to him, and Chanyeol thinks he knows why his chest felt so tight during those nights he’d slept alone in his old room at home.

      “Yeah?” Jongin asks, and there’s something else on his voice, like he has something to say. Chanyeol can hear the fatigued undertones in his quiet voice, and he feels his own brow furrow.

      “Are you okay?” Chanyeol questions, leaving out the part where he knows something is off. He can feel it in the lean of Jongin’s shoulder against his and the heat of his hand as it inches closer to his own.

      “Yeah, just,” Jongin mumbles, quickly turning his unclear gaze away, and Chanyeol hears an indistinguishable word fall from his lips.

      “Wha-,”

      “I did, alright,” Jongin utters in a rush, words tumbling from his lips like rocks in an avalanche. “I did miss you.”

      Those words come softly, hitting Chanyeol’s ears like a ray of sunshine to his skin in the middle of summer.

      “You did?” Chanyeol finds himself asking, and before he knows it, Jongin is his arms again, and he can’t stop himself from letting his arms take their place around Jongin’s body. Jongin’s hair tickles his neck, and Chanyeol welcomes the smile that overtakes his lips. His heart feels full as it beats fleetly, and Chanyeol faintly worries if Jongin will feel it against his chest.

      “Good,” Chanyeol whispers, “I missed you too.”

      And when Jongin falls asleep, his head rested guiltlessly on Chanyeol’s thighs, Chanyeol doesn't mind that it’s two a.m., or that the TV is still blaring in the background. He drifts off with his hand in Jongin’s tousled hair and a rejuvenated feeling in his chest. Something beautiful seems to await Chanyeol’s horizon, and Chanyeol thinks it looks curiously like Jongin’s smile.

 


End file.
